Markipliers' Adventure in the Sims Universe
by GurdenOfHell
Summary: Story Summary: Markiplier finds himself sucked into the Sims world. Not knowing how he got there, his 'housemate' being less than useful, he must find a way back. The only clear option to him is to play a game. But will he have the chance to find a way out with his housemate watching him at every turn and when Mark starts getting feelings for his housemate, will he want to go back?
1. Chapter 1

_**Chapter One**_

"And as always, I will see you in the next video! Bu-bye." With a wave of his hand at the camera, Mark Edward Fischbach, also known as Markiplier, sighed. Running the same hand though his mess raven locks, removing his headphones as he did so, he rubbed his eyes before saving the recorded data he had just done for 'The Sims 4'. The game was fun to play, just not a game for him. There was just so much stuff to do that he didn't know what to do. Let alone how to keep three sims alive… well, two sims. Wade didn't count. His life was crazy enough and revolved around him playing games all day. He really didn't live properly as is. He barely kept himself alive and well. He certainly didn't need to be looking after three, no two, 'simulated' lives. But he played the game, and had some fun playing it and cheated a little for more fun. All for his fans. That's what he lived for. His fans.

Leaning back in his chair, Mark sighed again. His life wasn't bad, he loved it really. But sometimes, he wonders what his life would be like without his career in Youtube.

"Most likely like the Sims I just played." He chuckled. "Just, without the crazy bullshit." He chuckled again. He really made a poor God. Hence why he was human and not a God. A lonely human. In a rather lonely apartment and studio.

Yes, the all-powerful Markiplier was a lonely man. Even with his immense charm and good looks, he had no one to go home to. No one to vent to. No one to hold close and be held by when he was having a rough day. No one to love. He didn't care whether it was a man or woman, either gender was fine by him.

"One day I'll find the one." He muttered looking at his camera. It was still recording; his face was still on his computer screen looking back at himself. Sighing yet again, he reached over to save and turn it off, when a letter appeared on his screen. It was a vibrant mixture between blue and white with the words 'I'm here for you, Mark' were written on it in fancy digital text and took up nearly the entire screen blocking off what he had been doing.

"Who's here for me?" He questioned his face contorting into a half questioning and half retarded look. He tapped his fingers against the keys on his keyboard, looking to the plushie Tim Box Tim sitting on his desk. "Should I Tiny Box Tim?"

In a voice all his own yet sounding slightly different so it matched the voice he had given to the unanimated object he found so adorable and worth picking up in an custom story for Amnesia. "Go ahead Mark. There's nothing digital text can do to hurt you."

"Good point Tiny Box Tim!" Mark exclaimed. "There is nothing digital text can do to me… except hurt my feelings."

"Aw, don't think like that Mark!" Mark said for the unanimated object.

"I'm sorry Tiny Box Tim." He picked up the plushie and kissed it several times over. "I won't think like that again." He put the plushie back down, thinking that, in some way, he may just be insane. "I probably am, but!" He returned his attention to the letter waiting to be open on his screen. "This letter must be read!" He clicked on the letter, watched it disappear before a white screen popped up. "Dear Markiplier," He read out loud for reason he didn't fully understand. His fans really had no idea how much he actually did off screen that was the same as on screen that would normally be considered strange or overkill or outright annoying. "My name is Bee Von Rose from Midnight Cove. And I am inviting you to come stay with me. Well, invites the wrong word. I'm bringing you to Midnight Cove." Mark sat up, face a mix of shock and confusion. He looked to the plushie Tiny Box Tim. "Digital words can't hurt me right?" Before he could answer fopr the plushie, another message appeared on his screen. "They can hurt you Mark." He read. A feeling of being watched came over him as he looked around and grabbed the plushie Tiny Box Tim for comfort. "Protect me Tiny Box Tim!" He yelled holding the plushie close. Another message popped up. "Nothing can protect you. You're coming to me now." Mark bit his bottom lip. "No I'm not! You're just digital text on my computer! All I have to do is click the little red 'x' in the corner and that'll be the end!" Another message. "The is never the end is never the end is never the end- Oh my god it goes on forever!" Mark yelled clutching the plushie Tiny Box Tim remembering the Stanley Parable as where he had seen those words before. "Oh my god! Tiny Box Tim, what is happening?" He yelled again as his computer screen began to glow brightly. He thought about running, but his legs wouldn't move. His body wouldn't move for that matter. He watched the screen glow brighter and brighter, blinding him completely.

"Oh, it wasn't that bad." A voice chuckled behind him. Opening his eyes and turning in his swivel chair, he saw a man smirking at him. The man looked to be in his late twenties, maybe early thirties with sun kissed blond hair that stopped a little was past his shoulders. Ocean blue eyes stared into chocolate brown ones with a slight cockiness to them. Pearl white teeth glistened behind smirking pink lips. Slightly bulging muscles defined the mans body under a black, rolled up long sleeve button up shirt with the top three buttons undone giving Mark a good look at the mans tanned skin underneath it. And loose black pants nearly covered black boots. "Like what you see?"

"I, uh, I…" Mark was at a loss for words as his eyes traveled from the man to his surrounds. One thing was for sure; he wasn't in his studio anymore. But he was in someones studio. Or, at least, someones study room. All around the room, lining the walls like a library, were books and books and even more books lining bookshelves among bookshelves. A metal fireplace sat in the center of the room, some type of glass was preventing the fire and smoke from spreading around yet allowed the warmth to caress the room. Extremely expansive looking chairs, all ten of them dyed a rich shade of red and gold, formed a circle around the fireplace with small amazingly crafted wooden end tables sitting in between each chair. Turning in the swivel chair, which Mark noted wasn't his as it was a matching red and gold color as the chairs around the fireplace, he saw two rather strange eyeballs jutting from the metal table with another swivel chair sitting next to him. "Tiny Box Tim…" He looked at the plushie he still had clutched in his hands. "I don't think we're in LA anymore."

"Oh, you're far from LA Mark." The man said causing Mark to turn around to face him. "My name is Bee Von Rose. And I welcome you to my home in Midnight Cove."

_~September 19, 2015_


	2. Chapter 2

_**Chapter Two**_

"Oh, you're far from LA Mark. My name is Bee Von Rose. And I welcome you to my home in Midnight Cove." Mark stared at the man oddly named Bee. Was this real? Did he really get teleported to another world though his computer? Blinking several times over, just to make sure his eyes were still functioning properly, he once again looked around the room then down at the Tiny Box Tim clutched in his hands.

"You said digital words couldn't hurt me!" He said accusingly at the plushie. "You lair!" Bee, who had chosen to watch the strange sight before him, nearly burst out laughing. Was this man for real? "And this can't be real! I'm sleeping! Just having a very bad nightmare." Mark reassured himself.

"Oh? Is that so?" Bee asked with a raised eyebrow. He took a step closer to Mark and bent over so he was eye level with the raven haired man. "Care for me to prove you wrong?" Said raven haired man had backed up until his back was flat with the swivel chair, though Bee still seemed to close for comfort.

"What are you gunna do?" Mark asked then wished he hadn't. Bee grabbed the collar of his black short sleeved shirt and pulled him forwards, closing his lips over Marks. Mark stilled for a moment, eyes wider than plates before he tried to pull away. But he had failed to see that Bees' other hand had slipped behind his head, fingers entangling in his raven locks, holding him in place. A tongue slid across Marks bottom lip before it began to prod its way into his mouth. To Mark, Bee tasted like chocolate and cookies as the older man wrapped his tongue around his own. IT wasn't a bad taste, but it was certainly odd. And it completely shot down his dream theory.

Once again, he tried to free himself as Bee began to push his body against Marks, but to no avail. He even tried pushing the plushie Tiny Box Tim against Bees chest with all his might, only to have Bee sit on his lap. Not good! The extra weight cause the chair groan and whimper in protest before it gave out and fell downwards until it met the wheels holding it up. The sudden movement caused Mark to gasp in shock as Bee crotch pushed against his own causing slight pleasure to shot though his body and Bee to advantage of that by pulling his tongue into the older mans mouth giving Mark a better taste of him. Finally, after what seemed like forever, Bee pulled away, though he still had a tight grip on Marks shirt, and smirked at the heavily panting man under him.

"Did that feel fake to you?" He asked with a chuckled kissing the tip of Marks nose.

"N-no!" Mark said in a half sob like voice. "That felt rather real actually." He shook the plushie in his hands. "Help me Tiny Box Tim! Help!"

"Heh." Bee snorted getting off the now broken swivel chair. He pulled Mark up with him, finally releasing the hold he had on the younger mans shirt. Only to grab his wrist and pull him out of, what Marked assumed, was the study room.

"What do you want from me?" Mark asked as he was dragged through a rather expansive looking and steel and glass plated everything kitchen. Bee simply continued to pull him though the house. When they came to a stop, they were in a living room. A very fancy living. At one end of the room a giant flat screen TV was hanging off the wall with a series of couches and chairs forming a half circle around it, a coffee table set in between them all. Many easels and pictures were spread about the room, a piano set against one wall, and more bookcases lined the walls. The walls themselves were painted a rich red with gold trimmings, the flooring was all fine wood and lastly there was a stairway that lead upstairs. "Are you going to answer me?"

"Nope." Bee stated. "I don't have to."

"Well that great." Mark frowned looking at Tiny Box Tim.

"I can't help you Mark." He said for the plushie.

"Insane man…" Bee muttered. "Look. You're here now and you'll just have to deal with that. Your room in upstairs, at the end of the hallway. The bathroom is the only door on the left side of the hallway. As you probably can already tell, this is the living room. The kitchen we passed through, to get to my study room you have to go through the kitchen and there's another small bathroom through that door under the stairs. Usually it's only used for emergencies."

"I… think I got all that…" Mark said blinking a few times.

"Good." Bee smiled. "One more thing, about making some money…"

"Uh… I don't like this…" Mark frowned. "I have to find a job, don't I?" That's when Bees smile grew into a smirk.

"Nope. You've got one already. You're my maid." Mark stared blankly at the blond man before him, rather, stared _up_ at him. Bee had to be at least a full foot taller than him. "Don't look so surprised." Bee gave short laugh. "It's not that bad of a job. I'm not that messy. Plus, you'll be making one hundred and twenty five dollars a day."

"That doesn't change that fact that I'm a maid!" Mark exclaimed loudly. Bee only laughed.

_~September 19, 2015_


End file.
